


Left of Me

by witchmaidensworld



Category: RWBY
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:10:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22452355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchmaidensworld/pseuds/witchmaidensworld
Summary: Just a dream, but its okay now. Everything is okay now. Qrow can breathe, because none of it was real anyway
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 8
Kudos: 97





	Left of Me

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have enough words to accurately express how angry and hurt I am about what has happened. I'm just tired.

His eyes snap open the same moment the claw of panic squeezes around his lungs, choking. It’s still dark but the images refuse to leave, burning brighter and more vivid in his inner sight even though he’s awake. 

“Hey!” He can feel his partner beside him shift, move to touch, firmly grasp his arms to still him. “You’re dreaming, Qrow. It’s okay, you’re okay.” 

A hand presses against his sweat-covered chest, and the feeling of tightness, of choking, of killing-- 

It’s gone.

His breathing comes back naturally, at first in rapid panicked gulps, and then slowing to normal. The room comes back into focus, standard gray walls, single window, and basic furniture. Bland, but familiar. Comfortable. And beside him…

Qrow rolls to the side and sits up, legs over the side of the bed, catching a glimpse of copper hair, green eyes, mouth turned down in concern. 

“You want to talk about it?” 

“No,” he breathes, pressing his fingers harder into the mattress. He sucks in a breath and holds it, letting it turn stale and burn in his lungs before letting it back out. The mattress dips as his partner moves, arms encircling him completely to pull his back against a strong chest. 

“Hey…” His lips brush against Qrow’s ear, breath rippling across his skin. He shivers even though he’s far from cold. Clover’s arms tighten around him, holding him. He should feel safe, he should feel calm. None of it was real.

Was it?

“You know you can tell me, if you want to talk about it.” Clover pulls him gently back and Qrow turns in his partner’s embrace to curl against his chest. How many times had Clover held him like this? Always comforting, always ready. He was a pillar of strength in the chaos of life Qrow had been living. Most times it didn’t feel fair, but Clover always laughed when he brought it up. 

“Fair isn’t part of the game, Qrow. We’ve all got our strengths and weaknesses. It’s okay, just let me be strong for you right now, he said once. So Qrow did. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he liked having the option to fall apart. For the first time in a long time, maybe in forever, Qrow Branwen didn’t have to put on the mask of the untouchable soldier. He was tired, and now he could admit it without feeling weak. Clover had a habit of making Qrow feel stronger than he was, or had the strength been there all along? 

He didn’t know or care. Clover was here, and it was okay.

His partner’s lips against his jaw brought him back to the present. Qrow closed his eyes and shivered.

“You died.” 

HIs rasp filled the silence of the room, accompanied only by the hum from the air vent above their heads.

Clover shifted to his knees, both hands pressing flat against Qrow’s back. “It was only a dream, Qrow.” 

“It felt real.” He didn’t meet Clover’s eyes, he wasn’t ready to see the expression there. Maybe it would be hurt, maybe it would be pity. Or maybe Clover would tell him without words there was nothing more he could do to bring Qrow back from this edge. 

That’s what it was, wasn’t it? He was teetering on the edge of his own psyche, looking down at the abyss of his own pain and trauma, ready to fall back into it. And Clover, good humored charming Clover, was always behind him ready to pull him back from the edge. 

Qrow doesn’t look at Clover’s face because he’s afraid. It’s always the same story, he’s always afraid that he’ll ruin this fragile thing between them. That his dream, his nightmare, will slither back out from the darkness and devour them both whole. 

“It felt real…” he whispers again. “It was real, and you were dying, and I couldn’t save you.”

“Maybe you weren’t supposed to,” Clover suggests, and he places a hand against Qrow’s cheek and turns his face up to his own. “It was a dream, Qrow. They don’t always make sense. They just serve to feed on our fears and insecurities.” 

“I don’t want to lose you.” 

“You’re not.” 

Clover kisses him then, and Qrow feels like he can breathe again. It was a dream, even though he had felt the burn of tears, felt Clover’s blood on his hands, watched his own weapon turned against his partner, his friend, his heart--

It was real, but it doesn’t have to be. 

Qrow breathes out, curls his fingers into Clover’s hair, listens to the heartbeat shared between them. The dark thing living inside him shrinks and disappears, and the space it occupied fills up again with love. Love he didn’t think he ever deserved, love he never expected to actually experience. And love he gets to hold onto and give back. 

“It’s okay now,” Clover whispers, and Qrow believes it. In the end, it doesn’t matter what darkness they face, what fears hound their steps, and what nightmares plague their sleep. It doesn’t matter, because they have each other. They’ll always have each other. 

A hand to hold, a mouth to kiss, a life to share. 

In the face of darkness and terror, in the end of everything, that’s all they have left.

Isn’t it?


End file.
